


Welcome to Gotham

by RivanWarrioress



Series: Welcome to Gotham [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bonding over books, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 05:11:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13474374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivanWarrioress/pseuds/RivanWarrioress
Summary: You had just moved to Gotham to work at a second hand Book shop in a rough area of the city when your new boss introduced you to one of the regular customers, Jason Todd.





	Welcome to Gotham

You had always had a special fondness for books, as far back as you could remember.  Your lunchtimes at school had almost always been spent in the library, or outside in the schoolyard, beneath a tree, with your nose in a book.  You had always been equally passionate about sharing your passions for books and reading with others. Growing up you had often helped tutor younger children with their reading, and once you were old enough, you got a part time job at the local library every day after school.  After you graduated, top of your year level, from high school, you’d headed off to your local college to study literature.  You had loved every moment of the years you had spent at college, surrounded by people with a shared love of books, but now you had graduated from there too.

 

Your love of books had been your reason for moving to Gotham in the first place.  It was a well-known fact that the city was rife with social problems…poverty…homelessness…crime.  You’d heard about how children, many of their lives impacted by crime, through no fault of their own, attended in overcrowded and yet underfunded schools.  You had wanted to make a difference…to help as many of those children break out of the slums of Gotham’s poorest districts, and get them into better schools, and escape the clutches of poverty and crime...to save them from becoming just another of Gotham’s crime statistics.

 

Your friends back home thought you were nuts for moving to Gotham.  You didn’t blame them, you were a naïve country girl, the kind that big cities tended to chew up and spit out, and that was without the crime rates of Gotham.  Still, your boss at the local library was able to get you into contact with a man who ran a second hand book store in Gotham, and he offered you a job.

 

Employment guaranteed, you rented an apartment a few city blocks from the store, and moved in.  Yes, the constant traffic noise and police sirens had taken a lot of getting used to, and you were very careful to ensure that your doors and windows were all locked each night before you went to bed, but you quickly settled in.

 

The shop, and by extension, your apartment were in one of the poorer areas of Gotham, choked with criminal activity.  You were lucky that when you were walking to and from your work it was light outside, and the darkness of Gotham hadn’t yet completely closed in.  You were a little nervous about what would happen when the days became shorter, but for the moment you were safely inside before the darkness came…bringing the criminals with it.

 

You were pretty sure that a lot of the people living in your building were in some way connected to Gotham’s criminal underground, although you had kept to yourself, and nobody had bothered you.  There had been a couple of loud arguments, and when you were going downstairs (because the elevator didn’t work) there was a persistent smell of weed and stale cigarette smoke that lingered in the air.  The rubbish dumpster at the back of the building was overflowing with beer cans and cheap liquor bottles, and there always seemed to be people moving in and out of the building, with people not seeming to stay very long. 

 

Still, you were never bothered by anyone, and you loved your work at the bookshop.  Every day people came in looking to buy books, who wouldn’t have been able to buy one new.  You provided recommendations, going from what you had read and what the customers told you they wanted, and you helped parents and grandparents pick out books as a gift for the children in their lives.  Some of the customers had been new arrivals to America, looking for some books to help them learn English, while others were older kids looking for more advanced books that might help them get into college.

 

You were stacking shelves on the day that he walked into the store.  You looked up automatically at the sound of the bell chiming, still curious about the customers that the store attracted.  Besides, as your boss had warned you, it was always a good idea to know who was in the store…shoplifting was, after all, an issue in such a disadvantaged area.

 

The man was tall and muscular, with dark hair, except for at the front, where it was white…although that was far from the strangest thing since you’d seen in Gotham.

 

As he walked into the shop, the man’s blue eyes scanned his surroundings, and you dropped your gaze, your cheeks tinging red, not wanting to be caught staring.  You went back to emptying out the box of romance fiction you had in front of you neatly onto the shelf.  It was no surprise that the bookshop so much romance fiction, really, given the countless women who arrived at the store looking for a way they could use a book to escape from their own, unhappy, domestic environment…although you weren’t sure how many of the so called romance books depicted healthy relationships.

 

The box empty, you went and put it away in the storage room at the back of the shop, ready to be refilled as people donated more books, before returning to the shopfront.

 

The shop was empty, save for your boss, and the lone male customer, who was browsing the shelves, a thoughtful expression on his face.

 

“Can I help you?” you offered the man with a polite smile.

 

“Do you have anything by Shakespeare?’ the man enquired.  You moved a little further along the same shelf the man had been looking at and pulled out a few books.  A battered copy of Hamlet, and comparatively well-kept copes of Othello and As you like it.

 

“Just these I’m afraid.  One of the local high schools is doing Shakespeare at the moment, and we got a little cleaned out.” You apologized, passing over the stack of books.

 

The man nodded n thanks, “That’s alright, it’s good that kids are still learning about the classics.  I haven’t seen you around before.”

 

“I’m new, I’ve been in Gotham for about three months,” You replied, walking with the man to the counter.  Your boss beamed when they saw you and the customer.

 

“Ah, Jason, restocking again I see.”

 

The man, Jason apparently, nodded, “I had to move a couple of weeks ago, and the new place is a little sparse for entertainment.”

 

“Oh, this is Y/N, she’s my new assistant that I told you about the last time you were in.”

 

“How are you finding Gotham?” Jason asked you. 

 

You shrugged in reply, “It’s different,” you admitted, “I grew up in the country, so the noise and lights took a bit of getting used to…but I haven’t had any dramas, yet.”

 

As you spoke, however, you cringed at your choice of words, “I’ve probably jinxed myself now though,” you added.

 

Jason paid for his books, putting some money in the donations jar on the counter as he went, before he walked towards the door.

 

“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” he promised over his shoulder, before he let himself out and continued on his way.  You furrowed your brow in confusion and turned to your boss for an explanation.  You only got a shrug in reply.

 

“Don’t ask me what that was about.  Jason’s a regular.  You only missed him last time because you were taking the trash out.  He moves around a fair bit, and a lot of the time he has to leave everything behind.  He loves his books though, so every time he has to move he comes in and restocks on his favorites.  He always leaves a donation as well, and is always so polite.  Last year when I hurt my back he helped me stock the shelves for a few weeks, and he wouldn’t let me pay him. 

 

“Sounds like a good man,” you commented, looking out the front window of the shop.  Jason, however, had already vanished from sight.

 

“I’m not sure what he does for a living but, well, in this area, you live much longer by not asking.” Your boss continued thoughtfully, and you nodded in agreement.  Just the other day a store across the road had been broken into and the owners beaten, although you didn’t know why.  It was best not to ask questions, your boss had told you.

 

Watching the evening news each night, and reading the newspaper during your lunch break, as well as what you had already known about Gotham, made you go along with your boss’s advice.

 

It was a week later when you saw Jason again.  Your boss had ducked out for a bit to pick up some books from a recently widowed women a few blocks away who wanted to donate her husband’s collection of literature, and you were alone in the shop.  It was early afternoon when Jason walked through the door, and you looked up from your position at the register in surprise.  It was normally the quietest time of day, when you had few customers.

 

“Oh, hi, Jason,” you greeted as he entered the store.  Your boss had been making an effort of introducing you to all of his regular customers, and encouraged you to greet them by name when they entered the shop.

 

“Hey, Y/N, how have things been?  Have you had any trouble, there’s been a little more gang stuff going on than normal around here.”

 

“Just the break in last week across the road from here,” you replied, remembering hearing on the news the previous night about the increase in criminal activity in the area you lived in.  Commissioner Gordon had given a speech at GCPD about it, although it had sounded like the Commissioner had given very similar sounding speeches before, increases in criminal activity were nothing new in this area of Gotham after all.

 

“Still, you need to be careful,” Jason smiled, although you thought he looked sad about the state of the neighborhood.

 

“Thank you,” You replied, “what were you after today?”

 

“Actually I’m just browsing today, I felt like reading something new…what do you recommend?”

 

DCDCDCDCDC

 

You and Jason were both distracted from your conversation by the ringing of the bell on the front door of the bookshop.  Your boss walked into the shop, his arms full with a large box of books.  You and Jason both immediately got up to help him, and soon the box was safely in the storage room at the rear of the shop, ready for you to sort when you got time.  Your boss brushed their hands together, looking at you and Jason with a questioning look on their face, and you glanced at your watch, feeling your cheeks colour slightly as you realized that you and Jason had spent almost two hours alone together, talking about what books you liked, and giving each other recommendations.

 

Jason looked equally surprised at the amount of time that had passed, and he ran his fingers through his hair nervously, “Y/N was just helping me out with some book recommendations,” he told your employer, who nodded as the tree of you walked back into the shop, heading for the register, where Jason had left a stack of books that you had suggested for him.

 

“She’s good at that, she’s even pointed me in the direction of some good books”

 

“Yes, I’m looking forward to reading what we’ve found,” Jason agreed.  You could feel your blush increasing, and busied yourself with tidying up the shelves while your boss added up how much Jaosn needed to pay, and Jason paid for the books, before leaving with a smile and a wave.  As you heard the door shut you exhaled, resting your forehead on the spines of the books on the shelf.

 

“So,” your boss asked curiously, leaving the register and approaching the shelf where you stood, “I’m guessing he was here for a while?  Did you two have a nice chat?”

 

“It was just about the books,” you hastily offered, and your boss chuckled and held out his hand.

 

“No, it’s alright.  He’s a good man.  You don’t get many men his age that are so interested in books, it’s good that you two have a common interest.  You’re new in town after all, it’s not as though you’ve had the opportunity to make lots of friends.  Jason…he’s a good start.”

 

“Thanks,” You managed shyly, before you recommenced organizing the shelves again.  The after school rush would be starting soon, and you wanted to be done so you could help the children and their families with whatever it was they needed.

 

DCDCDCDCDC  


It was dark and cold when you left the bookshop that night, having stayed behind to sort out and price the new books that the widow had donated.  Your boss had offered to drive you back to your apartment, but you knew that their home was in the opposite direction, and it was getting late.  Also, you were feeling cooped up, and wanted the chance to stretch your legs.

 

You wrapped your warm coat around you, setting out for the walk home briskly, glad that you already had your dinner for the night organized, as it was too late to really worry about preparing anything.  You had some leftovers from the previous night in the fridge that you planned to heat up.

 

A bitterly cold wind blew along the streets, and you quickened your pace, ducking your head agasint the icy wind.  You had only walked a block of your journey, but you frowned as you head the sound of footsteps behind you.

 

‘Don’t look, don’t stop, just keep going’ you thought to yourself, increasing your pace once again.  Unnervingly you heard the footsteps of whoever it was behind you speeding up as well.  For the first time since coming to Gotham fear trickled down your spine, the hairs on your arms standing on end as you began to realize the trouble you were in.

 

Nervous, you looked around.  There were few people around, and those that were out didn’t look like the sort who would, or could, help if you were attacked.  The shops along the street you were walking along were all closed, the windows darkened, and there were no taxis around that you could have flagged down.

 

Then, as you were passing an alleyway, you felt an arm wrap around your neck from behind, and something sharp pressing against your back as you were dragged in to the alleyway.  You opened you mouth to scream, but your attacker spun you around to face him and clasped their gloved hand over your mouth, holding a sizable knife against your face.

 

“I wouldn’t if I were you, missy,” your attacker, a large, middle aged man, at least twice your size, growled.  You looked down the alleyway, and was alarmed to see three other men, all of whom were wearing similar clothing to the man who had grabbed you.  You guessed that they must have all been in the same gang.

 

“Now, we’ll be taking your purse, and your phone, and any other valuables you might be having, and then, well, we might have a bit of fun.  Not very often that some nice looking girl comes wandering around here all on her lonesome, is it boys?’

 

The other men chuckled and shook their heads as the man with the knife moved his hand away from your mouth to roughly grab your handbag, while at the same time kicking you in the leg.  You let out a cry of pain as your knee buckled beneath you and you fell to the ground.  Above you the man with the knife tossed your handbag to one of the other men, before he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking on it so you were looking up at him.  Tears poured down your cheeks, and your breaths game in short gasps, but you were too scared to make a noise, frightened that he would stab you with the knife.

 

The man looked down at you, smirking, before he released you hair and roughly backhanded you, hitting you across your face, with a enough force to knock you completely to the ground.  You felt blood tricking down your chin, and gingerly wiped at it with the back of your hand.  Your lip was split, and your cheek stung where it had been hit, but you didn’t think that you were bleeding from that injury.  You slowly began to pick yourself up, before you froze at the sound of one of the men, probably the one who was closest, the one who had grabbed you, lowering the zip of his fly.  You whipped around, curling protectively into a ball, as the man grabbed your ankles, pulling you towards him.

 

“Hey, let her go!” a voice ordered.

 

The man holding onto you looked around, and behind him, you could see his companions doing the same.

 

“Up there,” one of them shouted, “it’s the Red Hood.”

 

Your gaze shot upwards, spotting another man standing on a rooftop overlooking the alleyway, a gun in his hand, pointed towards your attackers.  The man holding onto you let go and rose to his full height as the Red Hood drooped down off the roof, using some sort of grappling line to slow his decent, before he touched down in the alleyway.

 

“Get him,” The man who had attacked you ordered, and the other men charged towards the Red Hood.  You had no knowledge of combat, aside from what you had seen in movies and TV shows, and read about in books too, but even to you it was obvious that the Red Hood was by far the superior fighter.  In only a few quick moves he had the men attacking him on the ground and zip tied to a dumpster, leaving only the man who attacked you still standing.  You inched backwards slowly, but the man grabbed you roughly by the shoulder and pulled you back upright, holding you in front of him like a shield, his knife pressed against your throat.  You bit your split lip, gazing at the masked vigilante standing in front of you.

 

“Please…please help me,” you begged.

 

“It’s alright, miss,” the Red Hood replied, ‘just stay calm.”

 

“Take another step, Hood, and she’s dead.”

 

The Red Hood didn’t take another step, but instead tilted his head to the side, although his features were completely hidden by his red mask.

 

“Word of advice, if you’re going to use someone as a shield…at least make sure that they’re big enough to hide behind completely.”

 

With that the Red Hood raised his gun and shot it, and the man holding you captive let out a scream of pain and dropped to the ground, the knife falling to the ground in front of you with a clatter.  You whipped around as quickly as you could, pressing yourself back against the wall of the alleyway as you looked down at your attacker, who was clutching as his bleeding leg, his pants slipping down and revealing his boxer shorts.

 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you slid down the wall until you were sitting on the cold concrete, tears flowing freely down your face as tried to process what had just nearly happened.

 

“I, er, believe this is yours,” the Red Hood offered, handing your handbag out towards you, and you took it, your hands shaking violently.

 

“Thank – you” you stammered as the Red Hood zip tied your attacker’s hands together, and then repeated the process with his feet.  

 

“All part of the job,” the Red Hood replied, before he touched a hidden button on his helmet, obviously activating some sort of communications system.

 

“Hi Barbie,” he greeted, “I’ve got some scum ready for pick up, in Tellingworth Alley, near the corner with Glades street.”

 

The Red Hood fell silent as he listened to whoever it was he was talking to.

 

“No, I’m all good.  No injuries to report.” He replied to whoever he was he was talking to, before he hit the hidden button again, and turned to face you, approaching you and crouching down in front of you.

 

“Are you ok?”

 

Shakily, you nodded in reply, and the vigilante reached out his hand to you.  Your own hand trembling, you reached out and clasped it, and he gently pulled you upright.  Your leg hurt where you had been kicked, and your cheek was still stinging painfully, but otherwise you’d been unharmed in the attack, although you still trembled at the memory of your attacker’s hands around you ankle, pulling you towards him…

 

“Hey?” your rescuer’s voice, combined with his hand waving in front of your face, brought you from your thoughts.

 

“Sorry,” you apologized, “got lost in my thoughts.”

 

“The police are on the way, they’ll make sure you get home safely,” he told you reassuringly. 

 

You sniffed and nodded, tears trickling down your face, and you swallowed as the Red Hood cupped your face with his hands and wiped away the tears with his thumbs.

 

“Thanks,” you choked out, feeling your cheeks go red at the vigilante’s touch.  Swallowing nervously, you cast yur eyes around the alleyway, trying to distract yourself from the man who had rescued you, and was now standing in front of you.

 

“Are they going to be ok?” you asked, looking at your attackers.  The Red Hood turned, and took a couple of steps away from you.

 

“Yeah.  The guy I shot might not be about to win the gold medal at the Olympics for the 100 meter sprint, but he’ll live.”

 

“Good,” you replied, “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble for killing him.”

 

The Red Hood actually snorted within his helmet, “You’re new in town, aren’t you?”

 

You straightened your back a little defensively, “Yes, why?  How can you tell?”

 

“I’m not like the other vigilantes in Gotham…Batman and Robin and all them.  If I have to, I will kill someone, and I will use these,” he tapped his holster with his gloved hands, “and I don’t regret it.  The things I’ve done to these criminals is not what keeps me awake at night.”

 

You blinked, and tilted your head to the side, “what does keep you awake at night?’ you asked curiously.

 

The Red Hood hesitated, but before he could reply, you both heard the sound of sirens approaching, and something in your gut told you that it was the police coming to arrest your attackers.  The Red Hood seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

 

“What keeps me awake all night? Well, most of the time, it’s not rescuing nice girls like you, but tonight will be the exception.”

 

With that, he drew a gun and fired it into the air.  You flinched, before realizing that it wasn’t a normal gun, but instead the vigilante had fired off a grappling line.  You watched as he flew off into the air, leaving you standing in the alleyway with your attackers still safely bound and zip tied.

 

A few seconds later two police cars pulled into the mouth of the alleyway, and biting your lip nervously again, you began to approach them.  Three policemen got out of the cars.

 

“They…they attacked me as I was walking past the alleyway,” you explained, pointing back at your attackers, “and then he came and stopped them.”

 

“Which one was it?” one of the policemen asked you as his colleagues walked past you to check out your attackers.

 

“The Red Hood, it was what one of them called him,” you replied.

 

“One of them has been shot in the knee,” another of the police officers called back towards the one you had been talking too, “I’ve called dispatch for an ambulance,”

 

“Sounds like the Red Hood,” The police officer standing with you nodded, “still, better than when he just used to leave us bodies, and it’s been awhile since he’s put anyone in the hospital.   Can I get a statement off you, miss?”

 

You nodded, and recounted everything that had happened since you had left work, while the police officer took notes, nodding to himself.

 

“Ok, thank you for that, miss,” he told you when he was finished, “Is there anyone we can contact for you, to come and collect you?”

 

“No, I’ve not long arrived in Gotham,” you replied. 

 

The police officer nodded sympathetically, “It’s alright, we can give you a lift home, if you like.”

 

You hesitated before nodding, accepting the offer.

 

Within fifteen minutes you were safely back in your apartment, having been dropped off at your apartment building by two of the policemen, who were then going back to the alleyway to continue to process your attackers.  You, however, were relieved to be back, safe, in your apartment.  You stumbled wearily to your bedroom, putting your handbag down and taking off your shoes with a sigh, before flopping down on your bed, the memory of the Red Hood, a notorious vigilante, tenderly wiping your tears away with your thumb, replaying in your head.

 

On the roof of your apartment building, The Red Hood himself was crouched, watching as the police car that had brought you home headed back towards the alley.  Unseen, he had made sure to keep an eye on you ever since he’d left your side in the alley, protectively watching over you until he saw you enter the building (although he wasn’t certain if you actually lived there.)

 

Removing his helmet, the Red Hood straightened to his full height, as he looked out across the skyline of Gotham. 

 

“Well, Y/N,” he muttered softly to himself, “Welcome to Gotham.”

 


End file.
